Caught
by anasm4
Summary: Hermione is captured instead of simply injured at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. AU after Book 5. Includes some relatively graphic torture scenes. Rated M for subject matter.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

**Warning:** There is some semi-graphic torture in this, as well as discussion of things like rape and abuse. Please don't read if that will offend you!

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**Chapter 1**

How had this happened?

Hermione tried desperately to remember where she'd been, how they'd taken her. They'd gotten into the Department of Mysteries…She remembered that horrible room with the brains, with the archway, and then the one with the glass orbs. Harry had taken the one with his name on it, then…

Then what? The Death Eaters had appeared, apparently. She vaguely remembered running, fighting, throwing spells behind her as they tried to escape. But somehow, she'd been caught. What did that mean? Had everyone been captured? God, if the Death Eaters had captured Harry…they'd failed. He was integral to the war, she knew it. If Voldemort got him, he'd have no chance at all. Which means they'd have no chance at all.

But no.

Harry was important. Too important to leave with the Death Eaters. The Order would be here, they would come to rescue him, and she'd get out as well. They couldn't possibly be so isolated that the Order couldn't find them, could they? Voldemort was too showy for a hidden torture cabin in the woods. He'd be at one of his followers' manors, and the Order would find out which one in no time. She just had to be patient.

Damn it!

If only they hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries. Sirius wasn't there, she remembered that clearly enough. It had been an ambush. It had been all for nothing.

She felt a rush of anger in thinking about the pointlessness of their mission. God, if Harry had only listened to her! She'd tried so hard to get him to see reason, and he'd dismissed her as scared, uncaring, _cold_. He hadn't said it exactly, but she knew he'd only seen her as a nuisance to his plans, had been angry at _her _for getting caught by Umbridge, when she'd only been trying to do the responsible thing and check if Sirius was at Grimmauld Place. Well, if they both got out of this alive, he would be very sorry for not listening to her.

She looked around, resolving to think about how to give Harry a piece of her mind when she was in a less dangerous situation.

A large, dingy, badly lit room. Basement? Dungeon? That would fit with her manor theory. There was nobody else here that she could see, and no bathroom or food.

_Great_. She hoped someone would come before she had to reduce herself to peeing in a corner.

What would they do with her? Would they torture her for information on Harry?

Hermione sniffled, suddenly realizing how serious her predicament was. She was already bruised all over from the Department of Mysteries. She wasn't sure she could withstand torture. But then again, she didn't know anything too important…Would they realize quickly and leave her alone?

Or kill her. That was a distinct possibility, too.

Bugger. Where was the bloody Order? How long had she–

Hermione shrieked as a gate clanged open a few feet ahead of her, and a second later the dark room was filled with light.

"Ah, Miss Granger."

It was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione got up quickly, determined to face him standing up, but collapsed with a yelp as she put weight on her left foot.

"Oh, yes," Malfoy chuckled. "A present from Antonin Dolohov. I told him to be gentle when he dropped you off in here, but he was in a bit of a hurry. I'm sure you understand, busy girl like you."

She said nothing, breathing heavily and clutching her ankle.

"Tell me, Granger, would you like me to heal it for you? All you have to do is ask."

He said it pleasantly, almost as if offering tea, but the phrase sounded like something black and slimy crawling into her ears. She was sure there was some dark insinuation hidden in the words.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked instead of answering, her voice angry and firm. "The Order will come for him if you don't let him go. They're probably on their way right now."

He chuckled again, a low, dark sound from the back of his throat. "Oh, how little regard you have for your _own_ worth, my dear."

"I don't know anything!" She said, annoyed.

"I do hope you're justified in your self-deprecation," The man said quietly, smiling strangely. "You see Granger, Potter isn't here. I do wish we'd gotten the chance to take him, but as you say…Your precious friend is too important to the Order," He paced around a bit, still smiling. "It would be far to dangerous to bring him here, knowing those do-gooders would do everything to find him. We'd rather hoped to kill him on the spot."

Hermione sucked in a frightened breath. Was he telling the truth? She hadn't even really considered that Harry might not be here. If he wasn't…Would they still come for her? And wait, what did he mean they'd hoped to kill him on the spot? _Had _they? Oh God…

"Not to worry, Granger, unfortunately your little paramour escaped unscathed. You, however, are stuck here. Seems you weren't important enough to protect very well, hmm?"

"They-they'll still come for me," She said haltingly.

"Oh will they?" He stopped, smirking at her. "You seemed so sure a moment ago that they'd only rush for _Potter_…Which means that if they do come, it'll take a while. You see, the Order is in mourning. I'd be surprised if they've even noticed their pet Mudblood is gone."

Malfoy shrugged and examined his nails, so nonchalant one would think he dealt with hostages daily.

_He really might_, she reminded herself.

But God, in mourning? Mourning for whom?

"What are you talking about? Nobody died."

"On the contrary, my dear. Your mutt Sirius Black met his end just a few minutes before Dolohov took you," He grinned now, as if relishing at the memory.

Sirius? No. No, he wouldn't even have been there! "You're lying. Sirius wasn't even there!"

"Oh, but he was. No matter. He's of no consequence to me, but as I understand it your friend Potter was quite attached to the dog."

Oh Merlin…if this was true, it was certain that Harry was a wreck. _Would _they even notice she was gone?

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Now, now dear. Don't dwell on it. Grief is the last thing that will help you now," Lucius said mockingly.

He turned around and strode away, plunging them into darkness once more with a flick of his wand.

"Take some time to collect yourself. You'll have some more visitors in a few hours."

"Wait!" She shouted quickly, drawing herself up to her knees. "The restroom. Am I not even to be allowed use of the loo?"

Malfoy paused. "Why, certainly. How silly of me." He waved his wand and a porcelain chamberpot clattered down next to her. "Close by, for your convenience. I know that ankle is paining you. A house elf will be around to empty it…Sometime."

He left.

* * *

Hermione was left alone with her thoughts and tears for another few hours. It was hard to keep track of the time down here, but she'd wager it had been at least two since Malfoy had come to see her…Which meant she was due for another visit any minute now.

She couldn't believe Sirius was dead. How was it possible? He wasn't even supposed to leave Grimmauld Place! Had he really been captured, and been there all along, hidden by the Death Eaters?

It was torture, not knowing for sure. Hermione couldn't know if Harry was here, either. Malfoy _said _he wasn't, and she'd think that if they'd managed to kill or capture Harry Potter he'd be gloating about it, but there was no way to know for certain.

Sirius, dead…She couldn't imagine how Harry must be feeling. The only family he had left, just like he'd told her…Gone. He must be so devastated.

But along with those melancholy thoughts came a rush of anger. It was terrible if Sirius had really been murdered, but could that really mean nobody noticed she was gone? Why weren't they here yet? It had been _hours_. Certainly when they all got out of the Department of Mysteries _someone _would notice she was gone. Maybe not Harry, in his grief for Sirius, but at least Ron! Or one of the adults, how could they neglect to ask if Hermione had come with them?

It hurt to think that they might not care enough to notice she was gone.

God, and what would they do with her here? Obviously they didn't care about hurting her, if her ankle was anything to go by. She probably hadn't even been conscious, and still Dolohov had had no qualms about throwing her on the ground like a sack of potatoes, breaking her ankle in the process. But would they _really _hurt her? Torture her? Hermione had difficulty acknowledging it. She was just a student, a kid – they wouldn't hurt her too badly! And it was _Lucius Malfoy_, not one of the crazy, Azkaban-escaped Death Eaters. He had been creepy when he'd visited her, but not violent. Malfoy was a smarmy, pompous git, that was certain, but he didn't seem like the type to hurt or torture her. She went to school with his _son_! Granted, both he and his son hated her and her kind with a passion, but she had a hard time believing a parent of her classmate – _any _classmate – would really turn his wand on her. It was just too surreal a thought.

Oh, but who would these visitors be? She shuddered at the thought that she might face You-Know-Who himself. Surely he wouldn't care enough about her to come right? Gryffindor as she might be, facing Voldemort was certainly something she didn't feel even remotely brave enough to do. How had Harry handled it? She was scared just contemplating the possibility.

The gate clinked open once more, and she stiffened. She couldn't even stand up! Hermione wished she'd swallowed her pride and apprehension and asked Malfoy to fix her ankle for her before things got too bad. What if she got a chance to escape and couldn't even run?

"Hello, lovely."

Two men walked into the dungeon, lighting the torches as they walked. One she recognized as Dolohov – his picture had been in the Daily Prophet, and she distantly remembered dueling him at the Department of Mysteries. Obviously she'd lost – and badly; he didn't have a scratch on him. Her spirits sank at the realization. Somehow she'd feel better if she'd at least gotten in one good injury before he'd captured her, but no. She'd been that easy to beat. God, how stupid she'd been to think that a silly little Defense group would be enough to teach her to battle dark wizards.

The other man she didn't know, but he was tall – taller than Dolohov, if a little less strong looking. He'd been the one to speak, and now he was leering at her, a few feet away from where she was sitting. "Granger, is it?" He asked. "What a pleasure. Really, it is."

"And who are you?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound fearless.

He chuckled. "It's none of your business who I am, girlie. We'll be asking all the questions while you're here, and you'd do well to remember that."

She said nothing, turning her eyes on Dolohov instead.

The man looked bored to be there, and strangely enough it made Hermione feel a little better. Surely he'd feel _something_, either apprehension or glee, if they were here to torture her.

"It doesn't matter if she knows your name, Macnair," He drawled. "She won't exactly have a chance to share it with anyone."

Oh, God.

There were others outside the door now.

"Really Lucius, I don't have time for your games," A voice said lazily. "The Order has requested my presence and you know the Dark Lord has ordered me to remain available to Dumbledore in order to ward off suspicion."

Snape! Yes! _Yes! _She was saved. Hermione couldn't believe she hadn't thought of him at once. Of course he'd be here! He was a double agent, even if he couldn't save her right away he'd get back to the Order and tell them where she was! She'd be out of here by the end of the day. The thought made her almost giddy with determination. She could handle a few more hours – it didn't matter what they did, she could handle it knowing she'd be out of there so soon. She had to.

"Oh, you'll want to see this, Severus, I promise you. I've got quite a treat for you."

They walked into view and Hermione fought the urge to sigh in relief when she saw the familiar face of her Potions teacher.

She said nothing, though. She didn't trust herself not to say something that would blow his cover or put him in any danger, and Snape was more important than anyone to the Order – second only to Harry himself.

"Granger," Snape raised an eyebrow. His face was carefully blank, but Hermione could swear she'd seen a flicker of surprise in his eyes. So he hadn't known she'd been taken then? Damn it.

He looked back at Malfoy. "Honestly, Lucius. A Hogwarts prefect. Could you possibly have picked anyone _more _risky and _less _useful? They'll be looking for her soon enough if they aren't already, and I doubt she has anything of worth to tell you."

Hermione didn't know whether to feel insulted or grateful that he was berating them for kidnapping her.

"Oh, I didn't pick her," Malfoy shrugged. "Dolohov did. Though I agree with his taste. She is quite pretty, in a swotty sort of way, isn't she?" He looked her up and down. "If nothing else, she'll be some entertainment."

Her eyes widened. _What?!_

Snape just sniffed. "I don't see the appeal."

"Really, Severus?" Malfoy turned to him, smirking. "A pretty, intelligent, _Gryffindor_ mudblood. If your history's anything to go by, she's perfect for you. And friends with a Potter to boot. It's like history repeating itself," He chuckled.

Huh? What was he talking about?

She could see Snape's fists opening and closing, as if trying to keep himself from attacking Malfoy.

"I'd stop there if I were you, Lucius," He said calmly, if a bit more terse.

"Oh calm down Severus," Malfoy laughed. "We all have our weaknesses."

Hermione inhaled sharply as Macnair stepped closer.

He kicked her injured ankle, earning a loud gasp.

"Aren't you going to greet your professor there, love? Where're your manners?"

Hermione drew her legs up to her chest and clutched her ankle protectively, keeping her eyes on her knees and trying to stave off tears.

"Hello Professor," She said, her voice shaking.

He didn't answer.

"We thought we'd start by asking her about Potter," Lucius commented casually. "You give us information on the Order, but the Dark Lord is interested in Potter and the boy probably shares with his little friends more than with you. Isn't that right, Granger?"

Hermione said nothing, caught between blatantly lying and admitting that Harry certainly _did _share more with her than Professor Snape.

"Dolohov, why don't you do the honors? I know how you enjoy it."

What did that mean? She looked at Snape, eyes wide, silently begging for help. His face was blank.

Dolohov stepped closer, stopping right in front of her, and raised his wand, smirking.

_Just a few more hours, just a few more hours, just a few more hours._

"Crucio."

He said it so coolly that, had she been capable of thought, Hermione would've questioned how it could possibly hurt her so much.

But it _did _hurt, terribly. She was faintly aware of falling on her side, screaming as the pain shot through her very bones. It seemed to be everywhere – her back, her toes, her scalp; not one body part escaped the torturous feeling. Like thousands of red-hot daggers searing her skin. It was agony.

Hermione was sure she'd been under for at least five minutes when it finally stopped. She was on her side on the cold dungeon floor, limbs twitching as she curled up into a ball and panted, eyes squeezed shut.

"That wasn't very pleasant, was it, Miss Granger?" Malfoy asked softly.

She ignored him, focusing instead on the coolness of the stone floor and on hugging herself tight enough to stop the twitching.

"Aghh!"

She cried out as someone's boot came into hard contact with her shin.

"You will answer when I talk to you, mudblood," Lucius said, his voice low and deadly. "Or you will pay for your insolence."

"Yes! Alright!" She managed to say desperately, opening her eyes quickly. The light hurt, and she wished they would make it dark again.

"Yes _sir_."

"Yes sir."

"Now, again. That wasn't a pleasant feeling, was it?"

"No, sir," Hermione answered softly, not meeting his eyes.

"You wouldn't like to feel it again, would you?"

"No, sir," She sniffled. How could they do this to her? What had she ever done to them?

"Good girl. So you'll answer my questions like a good little mudblood, won't you?"

The anger surged back up into her chest and fought to flow out of her lips. How could he call her that so calmly? As if she were nothing – so far beneath him as to be dirt beneath his feet.

He kicked her shin again, harder this time, and she yelped. "I _said_, you will answer my questions like a good little mudblood, _won't you_?"

A _good little mudblood_. No. No, she wasn't as far gone as to degrade herself like this. Her blood was no muddier than his. It was loads better, in fact. She thought of her parents, back at their home in London, and of how good and kind and hardworking they were. God, they were so much better than these people. For the first time, she felt the niggling itch of regret for ever having entered the screwed up, prejudiced world of magic.

He kicked her harder, and this time she fought not to yell – all that came out of her was a pained grunt instead. "_Why _are you not answering me, mudblood?" Malfoy bent down and hissed the words at her.

Hermione drew in a ragged breath and closed her eyes again.

"I don't respond to that word," She answered coldly, not bothering to look up at anyone.

They were all silent for a long moment, before Malfoy let out a barking laugh and kicked her in the face. Hermione couldn't contain her shriek at this, and before she could even register that pain she was trapped in the agony of a _Crucio _once more.

She panted harshly when Malfoy finally released the spell, her throat raw from screaming. Even spitting out the blood from his kick was an effort her sore, twitching muscles couldn't make. Instead Hermione moaned, sobbing into the floor and letting the metallic liquid run out the side of her mouth as she buried her face in her arms.

"I will call you what I want to call you, and you _will _respond," Lucius said viciously. "You are a filthy mudblood whore, and you will be referred to as one. You deserve nothing better."

Hermione did nothing but weep into her arms, the anger she felt at his words diluted by the pain coursing through her body.

"Now, what are you?"

She knew what he wanted her to say, but she wouldn't, she _couldn't_. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

"WHAT ARE YOU?" He thundered, kicking her shin once more.

It was too much. She would have to forgive herself later, reason that she hadn't had a choice and that between giving him information on Harry and degrading herself in this way, the latter was the lesser evil. Fuck, why hadn't she just answered his stupid question before? Now she had to go through the added humiliation of acquiescing to his insults.

"A m-mudblood," She sobbed finally.

"That's not all you are, Granger. What are you?"

"Filthy…mudblood…wh-whore," Hermione whispered, hiding her face in the sleeves of her robe. There was no use refusing now.

_They're just words_, she repeated to herself desperately. They meant nothing.

They laughed at her.

How she hated everyone in this room. She'd like to kill Lucius Malfoy. Slowly and painfully. How foolish she'd been to even consider that they wouldn't torture her.

But wait- she _didn't _hate everyone in this room. Hermione opened her eyes blearily and looked at her Potions professor. At least he wasn't laughing, but he didn't look to be feeling anything else either. He stared at her impassively.

Hermione fought the urge to talk to him, to beg for his help. Couldn't he do something? Anything! She stared hard at him, willing the man to see the pain and desperation in her eyes.

Lucius' laughter died off to a chuckle.

"It looks like she wants to say something to you, Severus. Won't you join in?"

"You know I don't enjoy this kind of entertainment as much as you do, Lucius," He said simply.

"Oh, come now Severus. You ought to enjoy yourself a bit more. I know she's your student, but surely you can forget that long enough to have a bit of fun with her. She's not so young – how old are you, Granger?"

"S-sixteen," She rasped.

"Sixteen! The perfect age, Severus. I'll even let you have her first."

"Oh? And how will I justify _raping _one of his favorite students to Dumbledore?" He asked coolly.

Hermione wanted to scream. She was still here! Couldn't they at least discuss _how _they'd next torture her in the other room?

She tuned out the rest of their conversation. She could think of nothing worse than being forced to give up her virginity to Severus Snape. How could he let them do these things to her? Wasn't he with the Order? He had to say something, _anything_, to convince them to let her go! How could he just stand there and talk about raping her, witness them torturing her as if watching a boring movie?

"I trusted you," She gritted out before she could stop herself.

Hermione didn't look up, but she could feel that they'd all stopped talking to look at her.

"What was that, Granger?" Lucius stepped closer.

"I trusted you," She whispered again after a beat. "I-I defended you, to Ron and Harry…Everyone thought…But _I trusted you_," She hiccupped, looking straight ahead at their feet and speaking slowly and haltingly as she fought through the pain in her head.

"D'you hear that, Severus?" Lucius asked gently, reaching down to stroke her hair. Hermione had to stop herself from spitting on his pale hand. "Such loyalty. Here I thought you weren't well-liked by your students."

"Miss Granger has always been hopelessly idealistic in addition to the usual Gryffindor stupidity. It doesn't surprise me she would romanticize even her least favorite teacher," Snape shrugged.

"Yes," Malfoy chuckled. "I remember hearing about a crusade against house elf abuse from Draco. Ah, innocence…"

They all laughed again.

Hermione gritted her teeth in anger. The pain in her head was worse than ever, and she wondered if they'd given her a concussion or if it was simply a side effect of the Cruciatus.

They were mocking her. _He _was mocking her, all while he was supposed to be on _their _side, was supposed to be helping the Order, was supposed to have Dumbledore's complete trust. How could they have been so wrong?

"Come now, Severus, join in!" Lucius urged, still laughing. "She already despises you, why not make it worth your while?"

"Lucius, I told you I've no time for your little games," Snape was turning away now. "You know the longer I stay here the more difficult it will be to hide from Dumbledore that I know of the girl's whereabouts."

So he wouldn't tell them. He was her only hope, and he wouldn't tell anyone she was here. Hermione swallowed her desperate scream, her begging to be released, knowing it would only earn more laughter from her captors. It seemed her entire body was shaking in her rage and hate for Severus Snape rather than in aftershock of the torture. Lucius Malfoy and all these other cronies could go free, for all she cared. _He _was the one she'd like to kill.

"You fucking bastard," She whispered, tears tracking down her blood-smeared face. "Traitor…I hate you," She was sobbing now, unable to stop herself even though it made the pounding in her head even worse. "I hate you."

The last thing she heard was the familiar voice of her Potions teacher, as menacingly calm as it ever was.

_"Crucio."_

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**Well, there it is! I hope you all enjoyed it. This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you'd let me know your thoughts and suggestions. I have the first few chapters written, and will be uploading the next one in a day or so after I've finished tidying it up. There's some Snape POV in it, but I think this story will mostly be from Hermione's point of view.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

Thank you to everyone who left reviews on my last chapter! I'm so glad so many of you like it. I hope you will enjoy this one just as much- there's some more disturbing stuff in this chapter so please read with caution.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2**

Fuck!

How had they gotten her?

More importantly; how had nobody noticed until now?! Goddamn it!

Snape paced back and forth in front of Dumbledore's desk, fuming as he went over the circumstances that had led to Miss Granger's capture.

"_How _did nobody think to _ask _those miscreants if anybody else had gone with them? How could a Hogwarts prefect just go missing for almost a _day _without anybody noticing, Albus? How?!"

"Severus," The headmaster began calmly. "I'm sure you can understand that nobody was thinking clearly after we left the ministry. With Sirius' death, and Voldemort's attack on Harry-"

"Potter," Snape hissed, for once ignoring the man's use of the Dark Lord's name. "Always fucking Potter. Maybe now that your narrow-mindedness has resulted in the capture of an _innocent _girl, one with actual _brains _in her head, you'll stop focusing on that arrogant, useless little boy. Not even _he_ cared to ask about his best friend, Albus. Your self-centered little savior had eyes for nobody but himself and that mutt, and Miss Granger paid for it!"

Dumbledore sat silently, waiting for Severus to finish ranting. "Merlin, I'd love to be there when you tell him. What was the dunderhead thinking anyway, dragging all of Gryffindor to an obvious Death Eater ambush, with no thought to anybody's safety?!" He turned to face the headmaster, his eyes deadly. "I could kill him, Albus. I could kill that conceited little halfwit. If the girl dies, Albus…If she dies, I'm holding _him_ responsible."

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "You don't mean that. You know as well as I that Harry wanted to go to the Ministry by himself. His friends _offered_ to go with him, out of concern for his safety."

Snape huffed, turning away.

"Something I am still profoundly thankful for. If Harry had gone by himself, he most certainly would have been killed or captured."

"And Granger _did _get captured, Albus!" Severus roared. "And she _will _be killed. But of course, it's not important as long as your Chosen One is safe and sound!"

"I care deeply for Miss Granger, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "And I will do everything in my power to rescue her."

"There is nothing you can do, Albus," He dropped down to a chair, head in his hands. "_I _don't even know where the girl is. Lucius apparated me there, and it wasn't familiar. And she's resisting. She'll be dead by the end of the week, _if _she lasts that long."

Dumbledore paused, staring ahead sadly. "Resisting…Yes…Yes, she would," He nodded absentmindedly. "Harry's friends are remarkably loyal to him and to the cause."

"She's not just keeping her mouth shut, Albus! She talks back to them, she refuses to answer even when they ask the most meaningless of questions! I don't know what's wrong with the little fool."

Albus almost smiled. "What a strong girl," He shook his head, frowning once more. "Harry and Mister Weasley will be devastated. I'm not sure if we should even tell them."

Snape stood up at this. "Not tell them? _Not _tell them that their best friend is enduring torture as a result of their harebrained little scheme?"

"Mister Weasley is battling injuries at the hospital wing as we speak, Severus. And Harry has just lost his godfather, as well as been told of the contents of the prophecy. I'm afraid they cannot handle another blow at the moment."

"I don't _care _what the idiots can or can't handle!" He shouted. "You can't play games with other people's lives, Albus! Do you think it'll be a comfort to them that they spent the entire week in blissful ignorance, while their best friend was being raped and tortured and _killed_? When her naked, mutilated body is deposited at the Hogwarts gates next weekend, do you think Potter will be grateful that you hid yet _another _important piece of information from him?!"

"Is she so badly injured already, Severus?" The headmaster asked softly, ignoring the rest of his words. "How much has she endured?"

Snape sighed, shaking his head at the old man's obstinacy. "The Cruciatus, mostly," He answered, defeated. "One of which I had to cast myself. The girl despises me. She thinks I'm truly loyal to the Dark Lord."

"Perhaps you can find a way to communicate with her," Albus suggested. "Assure her that we are doing everything we can to help her."

"And are we?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We will try."

* * *

Snape descended the steps carefully, wary that she would attack him as soon as his identity became apparent.

Admittedly, he was also anxious about seeing the state of the girl. It had been a full twenty four hours since he'd last seen her, and any number of things could have been done to her by now.

Lucius had been pleased to hear he wanted to see her, but Severus wasn't as ignorant as to think the blonde trusted him fully with their prisoner. He cast some privacy spells quickly and discretely, aware that his fellow Death Eaters were probably listening to everything he was doing and saying here.

He stopped a few feet away from the small lump curled up against the far wall, wondering if she was truly sleeping or had already learned that faking unconsciousness would gain her a few extra torture-less hours.

"Granger," He hissed. "Miss Granger, wake up."

Nothing.

He stepped closer, trying to make out her features. "_Granger_! Wake up," He whispered urgently.

She stirred a bit at this, and Snape knew a moment of relief that the girl hadn't been killed yet. He lit his wand and ran the light over the figure, cringing at the bloody mess that had once been one of Hogwarts' best students.

He was startled to hear her begin to chuckle, and hastily flicked the wandlight up to her face. It was half-hidden by one of her arms, as well as the matted tendrils of hair that had escaped her messy ponytail.

"It's you," She said hoarsely, still laughing. Had she gone mad?

"Yes, Granger. It's Severus Snape. What's wrong with you? Why are you laughing?"

"Have you come to kill me?"

He was struck by the hopeful tone of her voice. Stupid little bint— had they managed to break her already? "Of course not, Granger. Sit up. I'm here to help you."

Her maddening chuckle never stopped, but she obligingly sat up—albeit with some difficulty.

Snape sucked in a breath at the state of her ripped blouse. "Your shirt is torn," He whispered, kneeling down. "Have they…Violated you?"

Hermione stared at him strangely, her insufferable giggles having died down to an odd hiccup every now an again. "No," She answered finally.

Thank Merlin.

"Not yet," She continued, voice shaking. "Is that what you're here to do?"

"Of course not!" He answered quickly. Stupid girl. "Granger, we cannot talk for long. They have listening spells on the room, and if I keep the privacy charm up for long Lucius will grow suspicious and come down here, and then I'll have to torture you. You don't want that, do you?"

She sniffled, shaking her head. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

Snape sighed, shifting closer to her. Comforting an injured, frightened girl was definitely not a job for him. Why couldn't Minerva or Poppy be the double agents? "Granger, look at me." She did so immediately, her eyes wide and wet, and he struggled not to wince at the sight of her bruised face. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm truly sorry I had to before."

Hermione frowned. "W-what?"

"I'm on _your _side, Miss Granger. We're doing everything we can to get you out of here."

She started crying in earnest now, and Snape fought the urge to turn and leave. "You're lying," She shook her head. "You're lying, this is just a new way to torture me!"

"Why would I try to keep you hopeful if I wanted to torture you?" He asked exasperatedly. "It would be in my best interest to keep you as meek and miserable as possible."

Hermione looked up at him, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. "But…But you cursed me," She whispered.

He sighed. "Yes. You were being insolent and irritating, and it wouldn't have been believable if I'd just walked out without responding. I apologize for that, Miss Granger. I wish it could have been avoided."

She inched closer to him, nodding quickly. "Your cover would've been blown if you hadn't hurt me."

Snape didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that she agreed so quickly. "Yes, that is correct. Now, do you have any serious injuries?"

"No, I don't think so. But…But could you heal my ankle? I'd like to stand up."

Hermione extended the injured leg and he ran a hand over it, pausing where she winced. _"Episkey."_

She stood gingerly, and Snape was glad to see she seemed a bit happier than a minute ago. "Thank you."

"Is there anything else? Any deep cuts or other broken bones? Your head?"

Hermione shook her head and stepped closer to him. "Sir, is it true Sirius is dead?"

"Yes," He nodded. "Black was defeated by Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry."

To his horror, the girl teared up again. "But…But why was he there? He wasn't even supposed to be there!"

Snape sighed. It would be so easy to make a biting comment about the mutt's irresponsibility, but Granger had enough on her plate right now. Even he could see it.

"It is my understanding that he refused to stay at Grimmauld Place when he heard his godson was in danger, and followed the Order to the Ministry."

She sniffled, nodding. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I knew he was going mad stuck in that house. Is Harry terribly depressed?"

"I haven't seen or spoken to Potter since the day I saw you in Umbridge's office, but I've been told he is quite perturbed, yes."

Hermione looked at him, her expression hesitant, and he could tell she wanted to ask how they were taking her disappearance.

"They hadn't noticed I was missing," She whispered.

He said nothing, and the girl nodded tearfully. "I suppose it makes sense. Everyone must be very preoccupied with Harry."

"There is no excuse," Snape said harshly, shaking his head. "Albus should've questioned Potter on who had accompanied him as soon as they got back. It was a grievous mistake, and I assure you Miss Granger, that I have berated everyone quite thoroughly over it."

She chuckled again, but instead of the half-mad giggle it had been before, this one had some real mirth behind it. But it was over as soon as it began and Hermione looked up at him, tearful once more. "I think I must be quite mad to believe you're on my side. Or desperate, I suppose."

He considered her comment, then nodded. "It is true that you are far too trusting, but you haven't been here long enough to go truly mad. And in this case, you are right to believe me. I spoke to Albus only an hour ago; we are doing whatever we can to free you."

The girl let out a pitiful-sounding sob and collapsed back onto the floor. "I'll be dead before you can. I know it. I won't last another day, they're so angry at me."

"You _have _to start cooperating, Miss Granger!" He urged angrily. "You are only getting yourself killed faster by resisting. If you make them believe you have something of worth to tell them, you will live longer. _Stop _being so bloody stubborn and cooperate."

"But, but tell them?! They want to know things that I couldn't possibly tell them – where Harry lives, about his family, where _my _parents live, where the Order meets, who's in the Order…I can't, I can't tell them where my _parents _live, professor!"

"If you want to resist answering their questions, do so. On your head be it. But you _can _stop talking back to them and taking a stand on meaningless things that are not worth getting Crucio-ed over."

"I-I know. I will."

He reached into his pocket and offered her the foil-wrapped square. "Chocolate. Eat it; it'll keep your strength up. Have they been feeding you?"

"They gave me some bread and water a few hours ago," She took the candy, nodding gratefully.

"I have to leave. Miss Granger, if I…If I have to come back with the others, I apologize in advance for anything I may have to say or do."

"I know, sir," She was crying again. "Thank you…Thank you so much. I'm so sorry for calling you those things and saying I hated you. I don't hate you," She shook her head anxiously, sobbing. "I admire you. I think you're very brave."

Snape couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh. _She _was apologizing to _him_?

"Merlin, Granger, dry your tears," He said gruffly, standing up. "I'm anything but admirable, and you have nothing to apologize for."

"Will you come back?" She asked desperately, standing up too. "Will you come back and talk to me? When do you think they'll rescue me?"

He regarded her warily before nodding. "If I can, Miss Granger. As for when you'll be rescued, I do not know. As soon as possible, I assure you. Remember what I said about cooperating."

* * *

"Lucius was suspicious that there was no sound from the dungeon, but I believe I managed to convince him that the girl was unconscious and I could not wake her. But I will not be able to do the same regularly."

"Have you any idea where she is?" Dumbledore asked hopefully.

"It's not the Malfoy manor," He shook his head. "At least not their main property. I suppose it could be one of Lucius' other houses. I'm reasonably certain we were in Scotland."

"Excellent," Albus nodded. "That's certainly progress."

"It _isn't_, Albus. She could be in Scotland or in America, it doesn't matter—if we don't know the address, we cannot enter and we cannot save her."

As usual, the headmaster ignored his pessimism. "How is she faring?"

"As well as can be expected," Snape shrugged. "She is weak and injured and miserable. She was quite distressed to hear of Black's death, and expressed concern over Potter's state of mind," He huffed. "She apologized to me. For having believed I wasn't loyal to the Order."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Worrying about others, even in her condition…Miss Granger is truly one of our best. She did not deserve this."

"_No_, she didn't, Albus! But don't worry, she's already forgiven you idiots for not caring enough to even notice she was gone. It seems you've been so obvious in your preferential treatment of Potter than even she is convinced his distress over the mutt is more important than her captivity," He snarled nastily. "Perhaps when she dies for you all, you will rethink your attitude."

"You are correct, of course," The headmaster agreed after a pause.

Snape froze, staring back at his employer. He was agreeing? Albus never agreed with him.

"I have been remiss in believing that Harry is the only one affected by the events of our fight. Perhaps I will still have the opportunity to apologize to Miss Granger for my neglect," The old man shook his head sadly. "There are too many children involved in this war, Severus. Too many."

The professor stared at him, incredulous. "You only realize this now, Albus?" He asked finally.

"Even if we manage to extract Miss Granger, I doubt she will still be a child," Snape added quietly, shaking his head. "They will take everything from her."

"She may be stronger than you believe, Severus."

"I already know she is stronger than I believed. But they will still break her. They will take even greater pleasure in destroying someone so resistant."

"Do you truly believe that?" Albus peered at him sadly over his half-moon spectacles. "That they will take the innocence of a girl so young?"

Snape nodded. "Her youth is appealing to them. I am surprised they have not done it already," He paused. "Of course, they may be doing it as we speak."

* * *

Hermione flinched at the sound of the gates opening. Had Professor Snape come back?

No. He'd been here only an hour ago, it was too much to hope that he'd come back this quickly.

"Hello, Granger."

It was Dolohov.

"You had a visit from your professor this morning, did you know?"

She stayed silent. "He said you weren't up to speaking with him. Decided to let you sleep it off. I wonder what he did to you in your sleep…" He chuckled. "That Snape's a right seedy character. What was it you called him? A fucking bastard. That he is. Loves the little girls."

Hermione shivered. On one hand it was obvious that Professor Snape had lied to the other Death Eaters about them having talked, which made her think he'd been truthful about helping her.

On the other hand…"He seemed mighty pleased when he came back upstairs," Dolohov continued suggestively.

Of course she knew nothing had happened. But would it have, if she weren't his student? Even if he was loyal to the Order, he must've been involved in torturing hostages before. Did a part of him like it? Did he get off on hurting "little girls", as Dolohov put it? God, everything was so confusing...

"Stand up, pet," The Death Eater said softly, stepping close to her.

She did so. It was no use resisting these small commands anymore—she'd only get punished unnecessarily. Whatever else he might be, Professor Snape had told her to cooperate as much as she could to buy herself time, and he was right.

"Why aren't you saying anything, lovely? Maybe you like the idea of your professor taking his pleasure from you, hmm?"

Hermione felt the bile rising up her throat at his words.

"So, my little mudblood? Have a little crush on your teacher, do you?"

He sniggered, cupping her face roughly. "If you've got the hots for Snape, certainly you can muster up some passion for me. I'm a right bit more handsome than that greasy bat, aren't I?"

She whimpered as his hands moved down to her chest.

"Have you anything to say for yourself, mudblood?"

"P-please, I—"

He ripped open her shirt, laughing. "Something _other _than your pathetic begging, little girl. You know that'll get you nowhere."

Hermione squirmed away from him, running for the open gate. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be—

He backhanded her across the cheek before she could get too far, dragging her back to the far wall.

Dolohov threw her onto the floor, still laughing. "Do you know what the Dark Lord said, Granger? He said that since I captured you, I could have you in whatever way I wanted. As _much _as I wanted, too," He stepped down on her arm, thwarting her attempt to get back up. "And I'm quite excited for it."

"But I'm a fair bloke, too. If you decide to cooperate right now, to tell us everything you know, I might be persuaded to keep from hurting you in that way. That's nice of me, isn't it? Now are you going to take the opportunity or are you going to keep being a stubborn little bitch?" He hissed, pressing his foot down harder.

Hermione sobbed, wondering if there was anything that could get her out of this. Any small bit of information, something insignificant that might keep him from doing this…She was so confused. Dolohov had seemed the least interested in her the last time he was here, only torturing her on Lucius' orders. Had that been only because the others had been there?

"W-what do you want? What do you want to know?" She asked desperately.

"Where does Potter live in the summer?"

Damn it! She couldn't answer that. It was too important.

"I-I don't know!" She cried.

He snarled angrily, and pulled her upright. "You don't _know_?! That's the best you can do, mudblood? Have you any idea what's coming to you if you don't give me better information?"

"P-please, I really don't know, I've never visited—"

The man slammed her against the wall and she cried out, feeling the back of her head come into hard contact with the stone wall. "Do you think that I can't _tell _when you're _lying_, mudblood?!" He held onto her upper arms and jerked her along with each word. "I've broken men older and stronger than you, and you _will not _resist me!" He threw her down on the floor again. "NOW TELL ME WHERE POTTER LIVES!"

"Surrey! He lives somewhere in Surrey! I don't know the address, I've never visited him, please, _please_," Hermione sobbed into her arms, wishing he would just kill her. Even if she got rescued, how could she ever face Harry again, knowing she'd given these people information on him? Harry would never have given them information on her.

She heard her captor's pleased exhale somewhere above her. "Good, Granger. That's very good. I believe you."

Her head was pounding from cracking against the hard wall, and Hermione could feel something off with the arm he'd been stepping on, but it was nothing compared to the loathing she felt for herself and for her jailers at that moment. She'd like nothing more than to kill them for breaking her so easily, to get up and spit in Dolohov's face and Crucio _him _for hours, to laugh at the sound of _his _desperate screams like he had laughed at hers.

"You've done very well, little mudblood," He said softly, kneeling down next to her. "The Dark Lord will be pleased with you."

He reached down to run his fingers over her shoulders, and Hermione shuddered in disgust. She hoped he wouldn't leave with her blouse, or she'd have to stay in her bra for the rest of her captivity. She wasn't sure where her robes had gone.

"But this isn't very much," Dolohov continued, still stroking her bare skin. "It's not nearly enough to spare you. You'll have to do much better than that to _truly _convince me."

Hermione whimpered. What did he mean, not enough to spare her? Spare her in general or spare her right now, from him?

"Give me your hand, pet."

Her hand? Was he going to break her fingers, force her to spill more information? She'd read about that before, but it didn't seem like the kind of torture a wizard would resort to. Would he cut off a finger, then? Send it to Harry and Ron, or her parents, and demand some kind of ransom?

Hermione ran over every mediwizardy book she'd ever read, trying to remember if wizards could grow back fingers. It didn't seem so unlikely—they could grow back bones, after all…It couldn't be that painful to lose a finger, not compared to the Cruciatus…Peter Pettigrew had done it, after all. If that cowardly rat could do it, so could she.

She cried out, cursing herself. She'd taken too long to move, and Dolohov had snatched her injured arm up and taken her hand into his two clammy ones.

"No!" Hermione jerked her arm back when she realized where he'd placed her hand. Oh God…She hadn't even thought of _that_.

"No?" He chuckled. "No, huh? On your knees, then. I'll use your mouth instead."

"No, please, I told you where Harry lives! I told you!" She said desperately, pressing herself against the wall in an effort to get away from him.

"You did. And as a reward, you get to keep your virginity for another day. But you didn't give me nearly enough to satisfy me completely, did you? Unless you have something else to say. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, maybe?"

Hermione thought vaguely that at this point she should've run out of tears, yet they kept coming. She shook her head at Dolohov, trying to stem the flow of the tears running down her grimy cheeks.

It was just her hand, she didn't even have to look…She couldn't waste more information on this. What if he really did come back tomorrow wanting to rape her again? No. She could do this. All she had to do was give him her hand, and he'd do the rest. She wouldn't be doing anything, really. It's like it wasn't even her.

Hermione extended her trembling hand, squeezing her eyes shut when she heard the belt buckle and zipper of his pants.

"I thought not," He said sadly. "We'll have to revisit the topic tomorrow then. For now, you'll keep me satisfied this way."

She felt him closing her fingers around himself, and couldn't keep a tearful hiccup from escaping her. She thought of Ron and of Viktor, and tried to imagine she was doing this to one of them in an effort to keep down her stomach contents. But it only made it more wrong. No, this was nothing like it would've been with a boy she liked...Not even close. Hermione wasn't sure she'd _ever _be able to do this again, in a normal way, and she couldn't help but start crying at the thought that she was being robbed of an experience that should have been pleasurable and exciting.

Dolohov sighed as he moved her hand back and forth for a few minutes, ignoring her periodic sobs, before groaning and pulling back. "Wait," He grunted, letting go of her hand. "Take off your clothes."

She sat up quickly, prepared to run even though she knew objectively it would do her no good. "What! B-but you, you said…"

Hermione felt her lip split open as he backhanded her again. "I didn't ask you to _talk_, you little whore," He moved closer and grabbed the hem of her skirt. "Now take off your fucking clothes."

Hermione didn't have another chance to refuse, much less to run—he took the fabric of her skirt in both hands and ripped it open before tossing it aside, then grabbed her hand back and placed it on his erection. "Do it by yourself now, mudblood, and I won't make you take off the rest. And if you hurt me, Granger," He took out his wand and pointed it at her face. "You will sorely regret it."

She squeezed her eyes shut once more, struggling to pretend she was somewhere else, anywhere but in the torture chamber of a Death Eater who was running his hands over her near-naked body as he pumped into her hand.

The witch was torn between relieved and disgusted when he groaned and finished on her stomach. She started crying openly, big gulping sobs that tore their way out of her throat- she wanted to reach down and wipe the mess off her skin, but couldn't stand the thought of having her hands touch it. Before she could even reach for it, Dolohov snatched away her ripped skirt and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I think the professor will be back to visit you tomorrow, Granger. Don't have too much fun with him. I'll be back to visit you in the evening as well."

* * *

Well...That was really icky to write :( I think that's as bad as it's going to get, but I never really know where my dark side will take me...

I kind of wish I could've kept Snape ambiguous for a bit longer, but I wanted some Snape POV and I couldn't write that without admitting he was one of the good guys. So yeah- he's good in this story!

I'm off to the airport to board a 10-hour flight, and I'd love it if I landed in NY to find a bunch of lovely follow alerts and review alerts and all that good stuff from you all. I really like hearing what you guys have to say on the fic- originally I meant it to be an aftermath story, about Hermione healing from the events of a Death Eater capture (with the help of one broody Potions Master *hint hint*), and the actual torture stuff would only be a prologue. But in a disturbing way, I kind of like writing the capture part...So it'll last for another few chapters, I think. But drop me a note and tell me what you'd rather see- I'm kind of on the fence, so I'll cater to popular demand.

Again, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

Thanks so much for the reviews, loves! They were wonderful. You guys seem to be evenly split in the plus or less darkness debate, so there are no extra warnings for this chapter- it's intense stuff, but not worse than anything else I've written. I haven't decided yet what I'll do; I do agree with the reviewers that said that the angsty and delicious healing parts later will be all the more sweeter if we go way dark, but I know there are people who really don't want that as well. For now, I am on the fence. I will have made a decision by the next chapter!  
I am back at college and this is the last chapter I have fully written out already, so after this I can only promise weekly updates rather than every-other-day updates :(

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

He entered the dungeon quickly this time, wanting to take advantage of every minute before the others arrived. "Miss Granger," Snape said, his face towards the gate as he cast the privacy charms.

"Keep your back turned."

The professor froze, his hands suspended in mid-air after he spoke the last incantation. Her voice sounded strangely menacing, and for a moment he was worried she'd somehow gotten a wand and was pointing it at him right now.

He turned slowly, but froze again as she spoke with more desperation. "_Don't!_ Don't, don't look at me. Please, just don't turn around."

Snape breathed in sharply, his mind running over all the different possible causes for her anxiety. "Why? What have they done to you?"

"I…I haven't got any clothes on."

Fuck. _Fuck. _So they'd…Damn it. He'd known this was coming, but somehow it seemed much more terrible than what he'd imagined. He gripped his wand tightly, struggling to keep himself from running back upstairs and cursing Lucius Malfoy. "Who was it?" He gritted out instead.

Hermione was silent for a long moment. "Oh," She said suddenly. "N-no, they haven't…He didn't…Do _that_. N-not yet. He," He heard her sniffle, and stepped closer while still facing away. "He made me do something else," She whispered. "Dolohov."

He made her do something else? The girl seemed to be saying that she hadn't been raped, which made Snape sigh in relief. Still—what had Dolohov done to her?

"Professor, do you think you could…Conjure a, a washcloth or something? So that I could clean up?"

"Are you bleeding?"

"No, it's for…Well, yes, I suppose it's for the blood too."

He cringed, realizing what Dolohov had probably done to her, and why she suddenly wanted to clean herself. "Miss Granger," He started, already conjuring her washcloth. "I should tell you that we haven't much time, and that the others will be down to join me soon. I'll have to turn around then, if not now."

She sniffled again. "I will attempt to not look directly at you, Miss Granger, if that brings you some comfort," He tried.

"Thank you professor," Hermione said thickly. "But it's alright. I suppose I'm being silly. You can turn around, it's fine."

Snape did so, and was relieved to see that the girl had at least her underthings on. He handed her the washcloth.

"What has happened since I was last here?"

She glanced up at him, taking the washcloth and running it immediately over her abdomen.

"Just Dolohov. And they gave me some more food."

Hermione gasped suddenly, as if remembering something, and looked up at him with fearful eyes. "I-I told him Harry lives in Surrey. I'm so sorry professor, but I had to, he was going to…I had to!"

He nodded quickly, hoping to stop the tears before they came. "You did well, Miss Granger. Potter's house has protections on it that they could never get past. You could have told him the exact address and it wouldn't have made a difference."

"Miss Granger," He kneeled down next to her, careful to keep his eyes only on her face. "Think. Do you remember anything about when you were brought here? Did they show you any rooms upstairs, or the outside?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I woke up in here. Why? Do you not know where we are?"

"No," He stood up, pacing angrily. "Lucius always apparates me here from the Malfoy manor."

Severus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself until he was back in Albus' office. The girl would not benefit from his frustration.

He saw her wince as the washcloth passed over her shoulder, and scowled at the sight of the bootprint on her skin. "You're injured."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think it's dislocated or anything like that. It's just a bruise."

"Professor? Will you have to stay, when they come down here?"

"I'm afraid I have no choice," He sighed.

"What will you do?" The witch asked apprehensively.

"Miss Granger…"

"Please, I-I'd rather know. Will they…What might they make you do?"

He realized what she was worried about, and shook his head quickly. "Not…_That_. I won't do that, and Lucius is aware of where I draw the limit. If he suggests it, it is only to frighten you."

"But he might do it himself."

Snape considered for a moment whether or not to be honest with the girl.

"It is a possibility, yes," He said finally. There was no use sugarcoating it now, and he'd never been one to do it anyway.

"And you'd have to stay here," Hermione continued, her voice trembling. She turned her head away. "Watching."

He understood the girl perfectly. It was bad enough for her to be tortured and taunted in front of him, both of them knowing there was nothing either one could say or do.

But to be raped, all while knowing that her Potions teacher stood a few feet away and was unable to do anything but watch? He could think of very few things more terrible than helplessly watching one of his students be violated in such a way, and he knew the thought was probably even more terrifying to her.

"I don't believe it will come to that," Snape tried to convince her. "Lucius knows I find that specific act very…Distasteful."

"So, just the Cruciatus from you, then?"

Her voice was at the same time accusatory and accepting, and Severus had to push down his anger at her words. She had every right to hate him, if she chose to do so.

"That will probably be the extent of my involvement, yes."

He could tell she sensed the challenging undertone in his words, but her shoulders relaxed dejectedly as quickly as they had tensed. Hermione looked up.

"I'm sorry, sir," She whispered. "I know…I know you have no choice."

He said nothing.

"Do you know who's coming, professor?"

"Lucius, Dolohov and Macnair. The same as the last time. Has anybody else been here?"

"One other," She nodded. "I don't know his name. He always brings the food."

"The three I mentioned are the ones the Dark Lord assigned you to, as well as myself. Nobody else important will be here. I doubt you have to worry about this other man."

Hermione chuckled wryly, shaking her head. "I'm not sure I would go that far. But you're right, he's not nearly as bad as the others."

She continued before he could think of how to respond. "How are Harry and Ron?"

Snape turned away with an angry grunt. "I don't believe Albus has even told Potter of your capture. He is still locked away in mourning for Black, as far as I know. And Weasley is still in the hospital wing."

"What?" She sat up straight, modesty forgotten. "What do you mean, Harry hasn't been told? Why is Ron in the hospital wing? Is he injured? Will he be al-"

He swore at the sound of feet on the stairs, and quickly dropped the privacy wards before vanishing the washcloth in the girl's hands.

"So, Severus," Lucius Malfoy strode in and clapped the Potions teacher on the back. "Having fun with our little guest? What have you two been doing without us?"

He stepped closer and eyed Hermione up and down. "I see she's had a change of wardrobe," He chuckled. "I quite approve. Your work?"

"I'm afraid Antonin takes the credit for that detail," Snape nodded at the bored-looking wizard behind Malfoy. "Miss Granger and I were simply having a chat."

"Oh? What about?"

His voice was pleasant enough, but both Hermione and Severus could tell there was a heavy dose of suspicion behind his words.

Hermione wondered just how much Snape was trusted by the Death Eaters – surely he wasn't constantly doubted, not if they were letting him see her at all, but it definitely didn't seem he was fully above suspicion.

He shrugged. "I was explaining to her that it is in her best interest to cooperate fully, since I can get answers out of her mind, _painfully_, if I so wish."

"Yes," Lucius nodded, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "You should listen to your professor, Miss Granger."

"While we're on your little talent, Severus," He turned back to Snape. "Why don't you have a peek? Be gentle with the girl, for now anyway, just let us know if there's truly something of use in that big brain of hers."

Snape sighed. "I've already said I'm quite sure you're wasting your time, Lucius."

"Still," The blonde said firmly, a forced smile on his face. "Indulge us."

There was a long pause in which both wizards stared hard at each other, and Hermione was sure for a moment that Snape was reading Malfoy's mind instead of hers, but then he spoke. "Very well," He stepped forward to stand directly in front of her, staring intently into her eyes, and raised his wand.

"Legilimens."

Hermione remembered Harry telling her about his painful Occlumency lessons and struggled not to panic, hoping it would hurt less if she simply let him rifle through her mind. If he were truly on their side, he wouldn't share anything anyway.

Appropriately enough, the first thing Snape saw in her mind was a collection of memories of her, Harry and Ron talking about Occlumency.

Hermione could hear snatches of conversation as the images of past discussions flew by.

_"Extra lessons with Snape? I'd rather have the nightmares," Ron's voice said glumly._

_"I don't like Occlumency much," Harry's voice, accompanied by an image of him raising trembling hands to rub his forehead._

_"Maybe it's not Harry's fault he can't close his mind," Ron said again. "Maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry…maybe he's actually trying to open Harry's mind a bit wider—" He was interrupted by an angry-sounding Hermione. "Oh, shut up Ron. How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you _ever _been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he words for the Order, that ought to be enough."_

Hermione found herself getting irrationally anxious that Snape would witness a memory in which the boys spoke too harshly of him, but instead of that she found herself looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, covering her face. _"I see no difference," He hissed angrily._

The image changed to another memory involving Draco Malfoy; the first time he'd called her a mudblood followed by Ron throwing up slugs in Hagrid's hut. Then a number of memories of Ron came to the forefront of her mind, and she could feel Snape rifling through them almost disgustedly.

_"Ron, you've ruined everything! … Next time there's a ball, ask me before somebody else does, and _not _as a last resort!"_

Then there were images of Viktor Krum, of the giddiness she felt at being asked to the ball, the strange flattery of being the "thing he'd sorely miss" in the second task, him kissing her before leaving for Durmstrang.

She felt a hot rush of anger and embarrassment at having to bare these memories to her Potions teacher, and a second later felt him pull away from the memory as if startled. With some surprise, Hermione realized she'd pushed him out.

He was rifling through all her memories now with no direction and she struggled to focus her mind on something harmless, but all she did instead was direct him to the most dangerous details in her mind.

Harry, waking up from nightmares and telling her and Ron the details of his dreams about Voldemort. Her use of the time-turner in her third year, which was meant to be kept from everyone but Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Reading the piece of parchment with the location of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Listening in to Order meetings with the twins' Extendable Ears. Trying to convince Harry not to go to the Ministry.

She struggled to turn her thoughts away from Harry, her heart filling with fear, suddenly certain that these were the memories he'd been looking for, that his frantic search for her most incriminating memories wasn't the behavior of an innocent man.

The scene changed to her home in London, to a curly-haired little girl lying pale on her bed. Then it was her mother, tall as if being looked up at by a small child, clutching onto her father and crying heavily as they both stared out at a tiny coffin.

"NO!"

Hermione blinked rapidly, looking around to find herself back in the dungeon with Snape and the three other Death Eaters. Her professor was staggering back, looking at her strangely, and the others simply stared, confused expressions on all their faces.

"Interesting," Snape said finally, still looking at her as if trying to figure something out.

He suddenly tore his eyes away from her and turned back to Lucius. "She's managed to raise some rudimentary walls and push me out. There's obviously something she wishes to hide, but it doesn't seem to have anything to do with Potter. I saw nothing of import concerning the boy or the Order," He sneered back at her. "Just the usual nauseating memories of a teenage girl."

Hermione couldn't pay attention to what they were saying, her mind running over the events that had just taken place. It felt like he'd been in her mind for a half hour, but she expected the others in the room would look much more annoyed if that had been the case. Instead, they looked bored.

Snape hadn't told Lucius Malfoy any of the Harry-related memories he'd seen, but he'd certainly seemed interested in finding them himself. And he'd admitted she had something to hide. Did that mean he would do it again? Dig through her mind for even more important memories?

She knew the scene he'd caught a glimpse of had nothing to do with Harry, but that didn't mean she wanted her professor to know about it. Nobody knew about that.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quiet the pounding in her head long enough to be able to focus on Snape and Malfoy.

"I could break them down, of course. It's a very flimsy defense," Snape was saying indifferently. "But I'm not sure how closely she guards her relevant memories. You'd probably end up with a half-mad, incoherent girl in your hands."

She tried looking for reassurance in the man's eyes, a hint that he was sorry for digging through her mind and that he was still on her side, but he didn't even glance at her as he spoke with Malfoy.

God, what if this was all some elaborate trick to get her to spill everything she knew? What if every time Snape had visited her, he'd leave the dungeons to laugh with all the other Death Eaters at how easily she'd agreed to trust him?

Why had he said Harry didn't know of her disappearance? That made no sense at all.

Ugh, this was so confusing! Why couldn't he just grab her and apparate out of there, if he was on their side? Or-or couldn't they place a tracking spell on him each time he apparated here? It couldn't possibly be so difficult to discover the location of a place he'd _been to _three times!

"Granger," Malfoy barked, and she looked up with a start to realize the object of her thoughts had left. "Severus has an engagement with someone more…_important_ than all of us," He smirked, noticing her eyes looking around for the professor.

Did he mean Voldemort? Hermione was trembling with the fear that it had all been a lie, that the only reason Snape hadn't told Malfoy about her memories was because he was saving them for You-Know-Who, and that once he relayed it all to his master he'd come back and kill her. Why hadn't he looked at her _once _before leaving?! Certainly even someone like Snape, if he were truly on her side, would make an effort to reassure her after skimming through all her most damning memories so carelessly.

Hermione yelped, jerked out of her thoughts by a swift slap to the cheek. "Well, I see you're of no use tonight, mudblood," Malfoy said angrily, and she realized that while she'd been lost in her own mind he'd probably been trying to talk to her.

"I'll give you the night off as I know Severus can be quite difficult to handle," He slapped her once more even as he spoke the words calmly, and Hermione was once again struck by how easily these men resorted to violence. "But don't get too happy, mudblood. Dolohov will be coming to visit you by himself tomorrow, and it will be a very difficult day for you."

* * *

Snape ran over what he'd seen of the memory in his mind, wondering what was so important in it that the girl had been able to occlude it.

When he'd watched it he'd thought the little girl on the bed had been her, but obviously it couldn't be unless she'd somehow escaped her own body, since he'd been looking at the child, not _as _the child.

She'd looked very much like Granger, which seemed to indicate a cousin or sister. The death of a sibling? It was a sad memory, certainly, but why did she guard it so fiercely?

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts. It was of no concern to him anyway, she might find the memory important but it was meaningless to anyone looking for information on the Order.

Snape turned his thoughts instead to the scared, apprehensive look on Granger's face as he'd left the dungeon. What had she been thinking about? She'd looked so worried, but certainly she knew that even _he _would never taunt her about memories he'd seen while in such a challenging situation. Had she been embarrassed that he'd uncovered her feelings for Weasley or her dalliance with the Durmstrang boy?

At least it seemed that the girl knew nothing _truly _damning. The image of the address of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters was probably the most sensitive information she had, and even that wasn't very worrisome. They wouldn't be using the house for a while, now that Black was gone. Dumbledore would have to ask Potter for permission, as well as validate the loyalties of that intolerable house elf.

Her information on how often Potter had vivid dreams through their connection would certainly anger the Dark Lord and cause him to occlude more cautiously, but as far as he knew Dumbledore had no plans to use the connection anyway, so it would be no important loss.

And the snippets of knowledge she'd gleaned with those insufferable Weasley ears—he'd have to tell Molly about those—was nothing truly important, thankfully.

"Toffee éclair," He muttered angrily.

The gargoyle to Dumbledore's office sprang open. He walked up the stairs quickly and threw the door open impatiently, ready to brief Dumbledore on the state of Hermione Granger before retreating back to his rooms to think of a way to rescue the girl.

Bollocks. Potter sat in the chair facing the headmaster.

"Severus," Albus greeted pleasantly, nodding at him from behind the desk.

"Have you told him?" He asked with no preamble, gesturing towards the boy.

"I was about to. Unless you'd like to inform him."

"Inform me what?" The boy asked angrily, looking back and forth between the two other occupants. "What does this have to do with Hermione? Where is she?"

"It took you long enough to notice, Potter," He snarled. "Or were you still ignorant of her disappearance when the headmaster called you up here?"

"Harry came to _me_, Severus," The older man interrupted. "He's extremely worried about Miss Granger."

"She's been missing for over two days, and this is the first he's wondered about it," Snape glared at Harry, refusing to let Albus siphon the blame away from him. "That doesn't strike me as the behavior of an _extremely worried _person."

Harry stood up furiously, letting out a growl of frustration. "I thought Hermione was in the hospital wing! Will _someone _tell me what's going on? _Where is she!"_

There was an expectant pause before Dumbledore sighed and looked at Harry worriedly over his glasses. "Miss Granger has been taken by Death Eaters, Harry."

Even Snape refrained from saying anything as the boy took in the shocking news, though he desperately wanted to berate him further for his self-centeredness.

Harry sagged back into his seat, looking pale and shaken. "T-taken? But…But from the Ministry? Why didn't anybody tell me before?"

"Harry," Dumbledore continued gently. "We were not even aware that Miss Granger had accompanied you, much less that she hadn't come back with the rest, until the day after the battle at the Ministry when Severus was summoned."

"But still, that was two days ago! How could you not have told me before? You said you'd stop keeping things from me!"

The headmaster nodded, his expression regretful. "I was hesitant to break it to you before we came up with a concrete rescue plan. I thought with the tragic events of the battle so fresh in your mind, you might not yet be able to handle the news of Miss Granger's capture."

"The headmaster thought it would be kinder to break the news of her death to you in a few days, rather than tell you she'd been taken and we were helpless to save her," Snape added angrily.

Harry sprung up and glared at him indignantly. "Hermione's not going to _die_! She's a good duelist, she's strong and—"

"A good _duelist_, Potter?" He snarled, stepping closer. "They took her wand before she was even aware that she'd been captured, you senseless little twit. A good duelist!" He let out a wry bark of laughter. "Have you any idea what they've already done to the girl?"

"Severus," Dumbledore warned.

"No, tell me! Tell me, you've seen her, tell me how she is!" Harry requested frenziedly.

Snape sneered disgustedly at the tearful boy. "Spare me your sniveling, Potter. I know she was the only one who tried to stop you from going on your witless mission, the only one with a scrap of _sense _in her head, and you ignored her," He hissed. "In your arrogance you thought you knew better than the smartest student Hogwarts has seen in _years_, and she is paying dearly for your mistake as we speak!"

Harry held his head in his hands, groaning wretchedly at the words.

"Severus, that's enough," The headmaster warned.

"_No_, Albus! While you've been trying to spare your precious _Potter's _feelings, Hermione Granger has been repeatedly tortured and beaten not only for information but for _entertainment! _Have you two any idea how I found her today? Half-naked, and bruised, bloody, _begging _me for a washcloth so that she could cleanse herself of whatever questionable substance Antonin Dolohov had spilled onto her stomach!"

"Stop!" Harry yelled desperately, crying openly. "Stop, please, I understand!"

His sobs, interspersed with miserable groans of _"Hermione"_, were the only things audible for a full minute.

Severus knew he should feel bad, knew he had gone too far and that the boy might've understood the danger without knowing all of the gory details. But then he thought of Hermione Granger, crying and sobbing on the floor of that cold basement, and couldn't bring himself to sympathize with Potter's sniveling.

He could tell Albus was struggling to find something to say, but there was nothing. They had no plan, no means of saving her or even _locating _her.

Neither adult had any trouble realizing that, for the moment, the situation was quite hopeless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

College is really hard! I'm sorry I took so long to update. I hope I can be more regular now that I've gotten used to things.

Also, there is some pretty disturbing stuff in this chapter :( So be warned.

But still, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Hermione spent most of her time fearfully wondering if it was the next day yet.

Malfoy had said it would be a bad day for her; Dolohov would be coming to see her by himself – something she knew was a very clear threat of rape, or at least some more-degrading-than-usual torture.

What could she tell them?

Snape had assured her that it didn't matter that she'd revealed that Harry lived in Surrey…Damn it, why couldn't he have told her more? Why couldn't he have given her a list of facts that were safe to relay, instead of just generally telling her to "cooperate" and avoid torture? Did he really think she'd just give them all her information without knowing exactly what was sensitive and what wasn't?

And there was something else, too – why had he said Harry didn't know she was missing? Apparently Ron was still in the hospital wing, but if Harry were too then he would've said it. But he had said that the Order would do everything to free her…were they really, if her best friends hadn't even been informed? Had they told her parents that their only child was being held hostage by a group of bloodthirsty wizard rapists?

She couldn't decide what would be worse for them. To be aware that she was gone, being tortured constantly abused, and that there was nothing they could do? Or to find out that they hadn't been told, either from herself – safe and sound back home – or from Professor Dumbledore, after the discovery of her body.

Hermione shook herself from thoughts of her parents, knowing it would only make her more miserable. Instead, she turned her musings towards Professor Snape, and what the heck he'd meant by saying Harry was unaware.

Not for the first time, she bristled at the alarming possibility that Snape hadn't told anyone from the Order that she was gone. That everything he'd said was a lie, that he was just trying to get closer to her and find information on Harry.

But he'd seen all her memories…And she was still alive. Which _could _mean that he hadn't told anyone, and that they still thought she had more information to share…Or it could mean he'd told them, but they'd decided to keep her alive anyway as some kind of Death Eater sex toy.

Oh joy.

Hermione was startled to hear a short little laugh leave her lips.

Crap, was she going mad, so soon? She had to be insane, to be laughing at the thought of herself as Voldemort's erotic plaything.

It just seemed so unlikely. Of all the girls these men could kidnap at keep for their pleasure, they'd chosen Hermione Granger? Frumpy, annoying straight-E student, elf rights activist, lacking in _any _kind of sexual experience…Really, it _was _a bit funny. Those silly Death Eaters.

The amusement was gone as quickly as it had come, and Hermione forced herself to stick to Professor Snape. She'd been having trouble focusing her thoughts…probably from the stress and fear and lack of food. God, she couldn't wait to get back home to her mum's cooking.

But no. Severus Snape.

He'd brought her chocolate. He'd given her the washcloth when she'd asked, and compared to his Potions classes, he'd been downright pleasant.

Which could be both suspicious and reassuring.

Bugger. She'd never get anywhere with this. Every time Snape walked in, Hermione couldn't help but feel a rush of relief at seeing his familiar face. She never stood up to him, never questioned anything he told her…

Okay, so he was her teacher, and if anyone had a problem with disrespecting teachers it was Hermione Granger.

But honestly, she was locked in a torture chamber, waiting to die at any second. Next time that secretive, unhelpful git came to visit her, she'd have some things to say to him.

* * *

Severus left the headmaster's office quickly after Potter had started sniveling. He had nothing pressing to relay to the headmaster anyway, and preferred to spend any free time thinking about ways to safely retrieve Granger.

Why couldn't it have been Weasley that had been taken?

He would've tried to help rescue the boy, certainly, but he doubted it would be anything like the crushing guilt he felt now, thinking about Hermione Granger trapped in that cold dungeon, waiting for rape then death.

None of the Death Eaters were into sodomy. Weasley would have suffered, but not in the humiliating, horrific manner that Granger was.

Snape didn't dare wish it were Potter, of course. He knew without a doubt that despite his personal dislike for the arrogant dunderhead, he would never live with the guilt of letting Lily's son die.

But Weasley would've been an appropriate substitute. One he could live with, maybe.

Next time he had the chance to visit Granger, he'd take the risk and go with a tracked item in his pocket. A tracking spell on his person would be too hard to explain if Lucius had wards to alert him of such spells – though he hadn't detected any in the times he'd been there – but he might be able to feign ignorance of a spelled object.

Yes, that was the next logical step. They _had _to find out where Granger was located – but it would be signing his death warrant if Granger escaped by Portkey or apparition. He'd be the only suspect. As much as the girl's death would weigh on him, Severus couldn't afford to die at this point in the war. The Order was nowhere near winning yet.

He almost sighed at the thought of the miserable girl he'd seen in that dungeon. Granger had always been so annoyingly lively and talkative.

Maybe he'd try to bring her some good news as well.

But what could he tell her?

He suspected the insane way in which Weasley had been babbling whenever he woke from his brain injuries were amusing only to him…

Ditto with Potter's snot and tears in the Headmaster's office.

Perhaps something not relating to her friends? Something from the Daily Prophet. He doubted she had access to it, and Granger would be the kind of person who kept up to date on the news.

Though things hadn't been looking so good for the rest of the wizarding world either, now that everyone knew the Dark Lord was really back.

Snape didn't keep up with events in the Muggle world, so he couldn't contribute there…

On that thought, had anyone even thought to inform the girl's parents?

He stopped in his tracks, halfway to his private chambers.

Granger was set to go home in two days along with all the other Hogwarts students. Even if they wanted to keep her parents from knowing the truth, they'd notice if their daughter didn't come home for the summer. They might call the Muggle police, not knowing what else to do.

He strode back to the Headmaster's office, hoping for once that the old man had already come up with one of his schemes to deal with the girl's relatives.

Potter was still there. Sitting at the chair, drinking tea, his face red and splotchy and even more unattractive than usual. Wonderful.

"It has occurred to me that Granger's parents may notice something amiss if she doesn't get off the train in two days," Snape said, without preamble. "Have you told them anything?"

He groaned inwardly at Albus' stunned silence. Really, old man? It was astounding how many important details the Headmaster forgot when they had nothing to do with Harry Potter.

"I confess I had not even thought of it. They may suspect something already. Harry," He turned to the boy. "Does Miss Granger write to her parents regularly?"

Potter took a deep, shaky breath before answering, still looking very shell-shocked. "I don't think so, no," He whispered.

Severus restrained himself from making another comment on how little Potter seemed to know about his friend, choosing instead to listen quietly as he continued.

"She receives packages from them every month or so," Harry shrugged. "But I reckon she writes more often than that. Maybe every week, even."

"Even if that is the case, I doubt they will truly suspect something until Granger doesn't go to London with the other students. You will have to inform them, Albus."

"Yes," The headmaster nodded, solemnly. "I'm afraid I must."

"I've never even met Hermione's parents," Potter shook his head sadly. "They went to Diagon Alley with her in second year, then she always came with me and Ron."

"Perhaps you can come with me, Harry," Albus suggested gently. "I'm certain Miss Granger has told them much about you."

Snape resisted the urge to snort at what a bad idea it was for this unstable teenager to break the news to a Muggle couple that their daughter had been kidnapped by a dark magical cult.

Then again, Severus couldn't seem to come up with any good way to break that kind of news.

* * *

"Good morning, little girl."

The voice was one Hermione hadn't heard before, and she jerked her head up quickly to find the speaker.

Peter Pettigrew.

Hadn't Snape said nobody else would be in to visit her? Obviously he didn't know much.

The sight of her new visitor nearly made her gag. Either Pettigrew had always been especially rat-like, or his years as Scabbers had severely changed him. For the worse.

He was plump and squat, with small, watery blue eyes, a twitchy nose and a sparse head of mousy brown hair. Hermione's stomach rolled at the sight of him, thinking not only of his unkempt appearance – right now hers wasn't much better, after all – but of what he'd done to his friends.

If it weren't for this ugly, disgusting little man, Harry would still have parents. James and Lily Potter would be alive and well if not for his betrayal.

He was still looking at her, and now he started chuckling. Though with the look of disgust Hermione was certain showed on her face, she had no idea why. "Have something you want to say, little miss? I can see it on your face."

"I'm sure you know what I think of you," She answered finally, her voice hoarse from disuse. "Harry Potter is my best friend."

Pettigrew shrugged, chuckling a little. "I suppose I do know what you think of me. It doesn't matter much, though."

He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Hermione defiantly kept her mouth shut. She had nothing to say to him.

"I live here."

She stared at him, wondering why he seemed to say it as if it had some significance.

"I've been hearing your screams," He grinned. "They're lovely, certainly, but after a while it gets quite tiresome to hear without knowing just what is happening.

"I asked the Dark Lord if I could come down to see you every once in a while, and he agreed to let me visit for a bit as long as I didn't damage you too much."

Hermione's eyes widened as she fought the urge to whimper. _Damage _her? What was she, a rag doll?

"Oh, don't look so scared!" Pettigrew said hastily, seeming genuinely apologetic. "I wouldn't hurt you anyway. I'm not like Dolohov and the others, I don't really enjoy causing pain when it isn't necessary," He shrugged.

She fumed. So he thought he was any better than the others? That if he didn't torture her for fun, that somehow made him a good person?

"Oh, so I suppose you betraying the Potters then killing those thirteen Muggles was absolutely necessary?" Hermione asked bitingly, wanting to slap the disgusting man in front of her.

He stopped and stared at her, raising an eyebrow. "Why yes, it was. But I wouldn't expect you to understand, mudblood," His voice was still squeaky and not nearly as menacing as the others', but Hermione could sense the warning in it and shoved her anger back down. Even only against Peter Pettigrew, she could do nothing to protect herself if he did get mad and try something.

She was silent, trying to school her features into something more neutral rather than the expression of loathing that had been there a second ago.

Pettigrew stared at her for another few moments, considering, then nodded and looked away.

"I haven't decided yet what to do," He shrugged, and turned to face her once more. "What do you think?"

Was he joking? What did _she_ think? Hermione thought this little vermin ought to scurry back up those stairs and crawl back into whatever hole he came out of. And leave the gate open for her, while he's at it.

She looked at him wordlessly, earning another one of those infernal high-pitched chuckles.

"I suppose you wouldn't really have any good ideas, Hermione. May I call you Hermione?"

Hermione struggled to contain her disgusted shudder. _No, you may not, you little turd._

"After living with you at Hogwarts for three years," He smiled. "I've grown used to thinking of you as Hermione."

Now she really did let wince at his words. It was true – the rat had basically lived with her while he was Ron's pet at Hogwarts. Just the thought was enough to make her nauseous.

His grin turned a little more feral, and Pettigrew eyed her up and down. "I've seen all of it, you know. It's not hard to get into the girl's dormitory as a rat."

Hermione gagged. She felt an irrational surge of anger at Ron for never noticing his pet was actually a disgusting forty-year-old pedophile. The clueless idiot.

"Of course, you've grown up quite a bit since third year. And very beautifully, too."

He didn't even pretend not to be talking to her chest.

"But I do have a rather fond memory of you at fourteen…" Pettigrew said suggestively.

She thought back to her third year, wondering what he could be talking about. Had anything particularly embarrassing happened to her then? So obviously he'd seen her naked, so he knew third year was when she'd gotten breasts, but what–

"I believe," He began, drawing out his words. "That was the year you started…How shall we say it…_Exploring _your sexuality?"

Hermione shook her head even as her cheeks flamed red at his meaning. Did that mean he'd seen her–?

"You…You didn't see me…" She whispered, still shaking her head.

No. She'd closed the curtains around her bed every night! And she was always _sure _to cast a silencing charm. It wouldn't do for her roommates to hear her–

"Touching yourself," Pettigrew nodded, his voice low and his face flushed in what she was sickened to realize was arousal. "I only saw it once, when you didn't close your curtains so tightly, and I couldn't hear you…But I came back every night after that, hoping to see you again."

She closed her eyes in humiliation. Of all the people to witness her clumsy fourteen-year-old attempts at masturbation.

"You were so beautiful. So frantic. Your face when you climaxed…I often dream of it."

Oh God. She closed her eyes again quickly after blinking them open for a second. He was rubbing himself through his trousers.

"I'd like to see it again," He said hoarsely after a silent minute.

Hermione's eyes shot open at this. Surely he didn't mean?

"You don't even have to take off your underthings." He seemed almost pleading. "But I want to see that again. I _will _see it," He stepped closer.

She shook her head anxiously. "No. No, I-I can't–"

"Yes, you can. I don't care how long it takes," Pettigrew hissed. "We have hours before Dolohov comes to visit you."

Hermione racked her brain for something, anything to say that would convince him not to ask her to do this.

Objectively, she knew it wasn't nearly as bad as what he could do. As what Dolohov would probably do. He wasn't even asking her to undress, or touch him.

But…But it was so utterly _humiliating. _To have to do something so private, something she _enjoyed_, in front of this disgusting man. She'd never be able to touch herself in that way again.

"Besides," He smiled again, his hand stilling over the front of his trousers. "I have a little trick for you."

With his magical hand, Pettigrew took out his wand and aimed it at her.

Oh God. What was he going to do? Imperio her?

"_Suscitā feminam_."

Well, she couldn't feel any difference. Maybe he'd done it wrong?

Her Latin wasn't good enough to decipher what the spell was meant to do. Something involving "female".

He was moving his wand up and down now, frowning, as if shaking it would make it work. Hermione wanted to laugh.

"Oh!"

What the hell? What was that?

Pettigrew started laughing, and repeated the last movement he'd done with his wand.

Hermione felt a warm jolt in her lower stomach, almost like…

Her eyes widened. _No_. Suscitā? Is this what that meant?

She whimpered as she felt it again, and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Yesss," He whispered, his normal hand disappearing into his trousers. "Take your hand off your mouth. I want to hear you."

She ignored him, focusing instead on containing the urge to thrust her hips every time she felt the jolt of the spell.

Hermione only noticed he'd moved closer when he bent down to clumsily slap her arm away from her face with his wand hand, the wood whacking hard against her cheek.

She cried out, both from the sting on her cheek and the intense shock of arousal that coursed through her when his wand moved that way.

_No. No no no. _She would be silent. He could spell her into orgasm – well, apparently he could, though she'd never heard of it before – but he couldn't make her moan in pleasure at it.

She'd never been very loud when she'd done this to herself, so she should have no trouble being quiet now.

Still, Hermione felt it building much quicker than it usually did, and hoped it would be over soon so Pettigrew could have what he wanted and leave.

This wasn't so bad, really. Not as bad as having to actually touch herself for him.

Besides…

She swallowed down a groan,

…It felt good.

And this could be the last time she ever felt good. She could die tonight. She would _probably _die by the end of the week.

If this was the only pleasurable thing she could have before dying, she'd take it.

Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to see Pettigrew's moving hands, and tried to imagine some nameless, faceless boy who loved her and took care of her and was giving her these wonderful feelings.

She ignored Pettigrew's disgusting grunts, focusing only on Nameless Faceless Boy who was hugging her and touching her and loving her in her mind.

_Yes…_

It stopped suddenly.

Hermione's eyes shot open, still feeling the warm tingling but no new stimulation.

She blinked quickly, reorganizing her thoughts and remembering where she was.

She breathed a sigh of relief. This was good. He'd stopped. She wouldn't have to share something so private with this terrible man.

Pettigrew was panting heavily, his hand stilled over his trousers. He was grinning.

"Enjoyed that, did you?"

Hermione said nothing.

"Would you like to feel it again?" He asked gently.

She fought the urge to snort. Did he really think it would be so easy to break her like this? Sixty seconds of pleasure and she'd start begging? She'd never plead for an orgasm from Peter Pettigrew. The rat had another thing coming.

But he ignored her silence and moved his wand again, this time more slowly.

It built up even more quickly now, the pleasure of last time still coursing through her body. Soon Hermione was breathing heavily once more, struggling to keep from making a sound.

It was getting harder to imagine Nameless Faceless Boy as Pettigrew's revolting grunts grew louder and louder as he stroked himself through the fabric of his trousers, his eyes never leaving her face.

_God…_This was so fucking wrong. Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes as she felt herself nearing completion. No…No, she couldn't be feeling this kind of bliss when that nauseating, betraying Death Eater was having a wank a few feet away from her.

Her breath hitched as the pleasure built and she felt herself just moments away…

She wanted to vomit at how good this felt. How could this feel good? How could she feel this way, when she was here in this awful place with this awful man?

A tear trailed down her cheek. She was so close.

Pettigrew stilled both hands with a pained growl.

"And now?" He asked breathlessly. "Do you want it now, mudblood?"

Hermione breathed heavily, staring at him through glazed, teary eyes. He would _not _take this from her.

His wand moved again, and she was instantly there, right at the edge, so close, so _fucking _close to –

She heard a groan leave her lips when he stopped, closely followed by a sob. Her hips rocked forward involuntarily, searching for stimulus.

Hermione _wanted _him to stop. She knew she did. She didn't want to share this with him. How could her body betray her like this?

"Yes," He hissed. "Yes, Hermione, that's it."

The sound of her own name leaving his lips brought her closer to reality for a moment, closer to the utter disgust she felt rather than the confusing pleasure of a moment ago.

But then he started moving his wand again, and she cried out, and she was _there_, fuck, she was coming, even as she heard the sickening drawn-out moan of the rat's own completion.

It ended abruptly and she felt cold, her body still trembling with the aftershocks as well as the sobs that rocked her shoulders. Pettigrew was panting a few feet away from her, his hand still moving leisurely over himself.

Hermione ignored it all, crying loudly at the confusing mixture of shame and disgust and hate and pleasure she felt.

Merlin, she just wanted to be home. Why was this happening to her? Why couldn't she just be at Hogwarts, packing her trunks to go home, talking to Ron and Harry and Ginny and being normal and happy and safe? Was that really too much to ask? What had Hermione Granger, who was helpful and caring and smart and flossed every night, done to deserve this?

Pettigrew might have said something as he left, but Hermione didn't register it.

She just cried.

* * *

There it is, folks. :( I think I'll write something more hopeful next time.

I live for reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

No warnings for this chapter! Yay!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Look at me, Granger!"

Hermione obeyed the furious man mechanically, her tears never ceasing.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?" Dolohov hissed, stepping closer.

She'd vaguely registered the Death Eater entering the dungeon a few minutes ago, and he'd been trying to get her attention ever since.

Hermione raised her hands to her face, still sobbing wretchedly. Hours had passed since Pettigrew had left, and still the feeling of shame and despair and misery had not left her. And now Dolohov was here, and he would beat her for information again, then rape her or at the very least make her do something terribly disgusting – and there was nothing she could do.

So Hermione just continued to bawl, her wet eyes on the angry, pacing Dolohov as she waited to find out what horrid thing she'd be helpless to stop now.

"_Answer _me, Granger! What the hell is it?" He asked impatiently. "Are you badly injured? Lucius told you to let someone know if you were, you stupid bint."

She said nothing, just shook her head minutely. "Then why the fuck are you sniveling like that?"

The stupid oaf. Did he really not see that her entire situation was reason enough to be crying so much? Hermione was so far gone in her despair she couldn't remember what it had been like to _not _be so bloody sad and hopeless, to still have faith that the Order would come for her. It all seemed so distant now…all she could think about was being tortured by this dark wizard, and all the other dark wizards in the house, then being killed. Her thoughts would turn to Ron and Harry, and what their reactions would be – to her parents, who had already been through so much, and how they'd ever get over the death of their only child.

She was jolted out of her dejected musings by the burning pain of a _Crucio. _

It was short, compared to what she'd already been through, but Hermione still fell onto her side and curled up into herself, crying with renewed vigor. It never failed to hurt and terrify her how little provocation it took for these men to inflict physical pain.

"That's for being a stubborn little bitch."

Hermione was almost surprised to see the man bang the metal gates closed as he left. Would he come back with the others? Or had she been spared for the night?

_It doesn't matter_, she thought with a hiccup. If it wasn't tonight, it would be tomorrow. There was no saving her.

* * *

"Good luck with that thing, Snape," Dolohov called out as he descended the steps. "She's being a right uncooperative little whore today."

Severus tensed but kept on walking, his mind running through all the different things that could mean. Had she talked back again? Refused to give up another useless piece of information and been tortured?

Bloody fucking hell. Couldn't the chit _listen_?

He heard the sobs before he'd even entered the dungeons. They were loud and wretched sounding, and it seemed to take her a massive effort to even make the sound, which came from deep in the girl's chest.

Severus experienced a brief, unfamiliar tightening in his own chest at the sight of the miserable girl. Granger was curled up on her side, her hands in fists beside her face and her eyes closed tightly as her body rocked with those strained sobs. She looked small, and he was suddenly reminded of the first time he'd seen her – that first day in his Potions class, when she'd been so desperately trying to answer his questions. He'd only paid attention to Potter – _just like Albus_, he thought ruefully – but this little girl had always known the answers better than that dunderhead. Always. And look how bloody well they'd all rewarded her for it.

Would her life have been different if he'd given her the recognition she deserved? If the teachers had paid a bit more attention to her brilliancy rather than Potter's supposed destiny, would she have realized how stupid it was to ever get involved in this mad war with that mad boy? Would she be safe at Hogwarts right now, packing for her trip home? Excited to see her parents? Saying goodbye to her friends – healthy, _safe _friends, not Potter and Weasley? Anywhere but crying her heart out on the cold concrete floor of a torture chamber, awaiting her certain death?

"Granger."

She gave no sign of having registered his presence.

"Granger, tell me what's wrong with you."

She seemed to sob harder at that, and he wondered if years of yelling at those little imbeciles had made him incapable of sounding even somewhat reassuring. Damn it.

He tried again, walking closer and forcing himself to speak more softly. "Granger, may I do anything to help you?"

"Miss Granger," She whispered, almost too low for him to hear.

Severus paused. Huh? "I'm sorry?"

"Please, I…it's _Miss _Granger."

Severus started at her words. What? What the bloody hell was wrong with the witch? Here she was bawling her eyes out, and somehow still worried about propriety?

"Of course, I apologize," He said easily, still inwardly confused. "Miss Granger."

"They call me Granger," She whispered again, after a silent moment. "I don't like being just Granger. Everyone who hates me calls me just Granger."

Oh.

Of course.

He shouldn't have called her Granger in the first place – he _was _still her teacher. He'd certainly never call the girl by her first name, but he could – _should _– revert back to Miss Granger. "Very well. Miss Granger. Will you tell me what's the matter with you?"

Her sobs had quieted a bit, but not ceased. She shook her head quickly, closing her eyes.

"Are you injured? Have they done something?"

She did nothing, just stared straight ahead at his shoes. Finally, Granger shook her head again, slowly. "Not injured. Just…" She sniffled. "Humiliated."

He wondered what they had made the girl do, to reduce her to such misery. She hadn't even been like this after what Dolohov had done.

Besides, although his fellow Death Eaters could be quite creative in their torture methods, but usually didn't use those for regular informant torture. It was always either pain or forced sexual favors. So what could–

"You told me nobody else would be here." He was jerked out of his thoughts by her accusing voice.

Severus looked at his downcast student. He couldn't help but be somewhat disgusted by the girl's ability to talk and sob at the same time. She needed to wipe her face.

"Who was here?" Severus offered her a handkerchief, which she absently swatted her face with to no avail.

"Pettigrew," She answered finally, with a shudder and renewed tears.

Peter Pettigrew? _He'd _been the one to put her in such a state?

That filthy rat.

What the fuck had he done to her?

"What did he do to you?" Snape asked with forced calm.

Was that a blush? Fuck. _Fuck_. Pettigrew, that disgusting, dirty, spineless little pedophile. Had he…?

"He cursed me," She whispered, still sniffling softly. Severus wished the girl would sit up and look at him. It was disturbing, to see her so boneless and dejected on the floor like that, staring straight ahead as if in a trance.

Her words finally registered.

"He _what_? What curse? What were the words?"

_Bugger_! All this time she'd been under the effects of a curse? He hadn't noticed anything amiss – other than the crying. Was that it? A depression curse? That was…rather uninspired, even for Pettigrew.

"It…It ran its course," She continued softly, shaking her head. "I'm fine now."

"Miss Granger, you can't possibly know that!" Severus said impatiently. "Do you remember the words? What were the effects?"

She looked on the verge of protesting again, but then closed her mouth and sighed almost imperceptibly. "I don't remember the words," Granger shook her head. "It made me…" She was blushing again, redder than before. "It made me…" A sob escaped her. "Please, sir, I-I can't tell you!"

Obviously it had made her do something she was very embarrassed about. It almost sounded like-

"Was it the Imperius curse?"

"I'd remember the words to the Imperius, professor!" Granger barked out nastily.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her outburst, satisfied to see her instantly chagrined expression. "Sorry."

"It's over now," She murmured once more, averting her eyes. "It doesn't matter."

Severus was silent for a long moment, debating with himself on whether or not to push the matter. She did seem fine, and it was obviously causing her great embarrassment to talk of it…He might as well drop it. She'd certainly go through much worse here.

"Very well," He nodded shortly. "You're uninjured, then?"

She nodded back, still sniffling miserably, and Severus felt like…like doing something. Patting the top of the girl's head or something like that. Anything to make her stop looking so despondent.

Ugh. He shook himself.

"Is Pettigrew the reason you've been apparently sniveling for hours?"

Granger hiccupped, and Severus cursed himself when she started silently crying again.

"I'm going to die here," She mumbled, that accusing look back in her eyes. "Nobody's coming. I don't know what the hell you've told the Order, if you've told them anything, but…But I'm going to die here. I can feel it," Granger breathed out shakily. "That's why I've been _sniveling_, professor."

So she doubted him. It wasn't surprising – he certainly would, in her position. Still…was she really so certain she wouldn't be rescued? It seemed quite hopeless to him, yes, but if anyone had to try and stay optimistic it was the girl herself. He tried to change the subject. "Your friend Potter has been told."

She looked at him with teary, pathetically suspicious eyes. "And why wasn't he told in the _first _place?"

"That was the Headmaster's decision," He fought the urge to roll his eyes in the student's presence. "I managed to convince him it was an inane idea."

"What did Harry do?"

Severus thought for a moment on whether or not to give her the entire story. Would it make her feel better or worse that her friend was probably still bawling his eyes out at the news?

"Potter was quite upset."

Granger stared at him for another few seconds, as if waiting for more, and then looked away with a shaky sigh.

"Did you tell You-Know-Who about what you saw in my head?"

He flinched minutely, and tried to control the sudden anger that rushed up at her accusation. "Is that what the others told you I did?"

She sniffled one last time and sat up, glaring at him. "You _see_? That's exactly what I mean! Would it kill you to act _surprised_ by something? To give me a straight answer? If you're really on my side, on _our _side, why aren't you immediately denying you would do such a thing? And if you aren't, why won't you just _admit _it?!" Her voice rose with each word, and he quickly checked over his wards to make sure nobody could hear her. "I'm going to _die _anyway! Why must you continue to torture me like this?! I was your student! I know you don't like me, but do you really want to hurt me this much?! You're a _teacher_! How can you be so bloody _evil_?!" She glowered at him.

He glared right back at her, fuming. Hostage or not, Hermione Granger was his student and had no right to talk to him like this. Did the airheaded little bint really have no idea how he was risking himself at every moment to help her? How completely she'd inserted herself into his thoughts, so that he could barely get his usual measly four hours of sleep without feeling guilty that he was neglecting her predicament? Ungrateful little brat.

"You forget yourself, _Granger_," Snape hissed. "Whatever your current condition, I am still your superior and deserve to be addressed with some respect," He stepped closer to her, inwardly smirking at her frightened recoil. "I risk my lifeat the very, bloody _moment _to have this utterly useless conversation with you, Granger. And you waste my time with false accusations that I care nothing for the safety of my students? Have you any idea of the kind of torture _I _will endure if my position is compromised? What you've gone through is child's play, you brainless _bloody _twit!"

Severus paused and took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of the silent, apprehensive girl.

"Now. If that's all you have to contribute today, Granger, I'll be on my way. Good day to you."

He turned on his heels and strode out of the room, not sparing the girl another glance.

"Wait!" She stood up on unsteady legs and stumbled after him. "Wait, Professor Snape, please!"

Severus paused with a heavy sigh.

That would have been too easy. He knew it wouldn't be so simple to turn away from the depressed little wretch.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Her voice was teary again, and she was touching his elbow. "Truly, I am."

He turned to face her, shaking her hand off his sleeve. Her legs were trembling, and she had her arms wrapped protectively around her bare torso. He couldn't tell if it was for warmth or her modesty. Probably both.

"Sir, I…I'm sorry," Granger shook her head. "Y-you have to understand…In here, with only my thoughts for company, I…with nothing happening, with the Order not…well, i-it's hard for me to…To stay hopeful. And, and trusting. I still don't…" She looked away, swallowing. "I-I don't know. But regardless, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I apologize. You…You may take ten points from Gryffindor when you get back to Hogwarts," She cracked a hopeful half-smile, and he rolled his eyes at her attempt at humor.

Ugh. Fine. At least her apology was sincere. "Very well, Gr-_Miss _Granger. But I'll have you know that little display warrants at least twenty points."

She giggled a bit, nodding, and he couldn't even reprimand her for not taking him seriously – he _was _bloody serious – because she looked better than she had in all of her time here. "I thought so," Granger shrugged. "But I hoped you'd take into account my extenuating circumstances, and only take ten."

Severus shook his head, frowning. "I don't do that."

Blast. The girl had the nerve to giggle again. "I understand, sir," She nodded.

He'd tried to keep his eyes on her face, but her trembling arms caught Snape's attention. What was wrong with her? "Granger, what is it?" He gestured at her arms. "Are you cold?"

She looked defiant for a second – probably wanting to correct him for her name; he kept forgetting – but it was quickly replaced by dejectedness. The witch shrugged. "I'm not sure. Not really. It's been like this for a while now. I reckon I'm probably just hungry."

"Have they not been feeding you well?" He frowned.

"Well, not _well,_" She rolled her eyes. "But yes, they've been giving me food. It's just not much."

Severus cursed himself for not having had the forethought to bring her some chocolate like before. It would've done her good…

They were both startled by heavy steps outside the metal gate. Snape looked at his student urgently, urging her to get back to where she'd been, and in Hermione's haste to do so she tripped backwards, hitting her head hard on the stone floor. "Shit!" She groaned.

He swallowed, caught between stepping forward to check on his student and stepping back to act in character. Dolohov's voice was right outside the gate. "Any luck, Snape?"

He hastily took down the privacy spells and stepped away from the girl. There was no time now.

"Not considerably, no," He answered curtly.

"She looks a bit worse for wear," The Death Eater stepped into the dungeon. "Caved in, did you? Hard not to smack the stubborn little bitch around a bit, isn't it? She's got a mouth on her."

Hermione just stared up at the ceiling, willing herself to ignore Dolohov's carelessly hurled insults. Severus spared the other man a glance, nodding once.

"Indeed."

"I've been meaning to ask you," Dolohov lowered his voice, as if about to tell a particularly amusing dirty joke. "See anything interesting in that little brain of hers?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I've told Lucius everything of importance."

"I know, I know," The other man said impatiently. "I don't mean that stuff. I mean…Anything, _interesting_? Pettigrew there was just telling me what he used to see when he lived with that other brat. Was always around this one, he said. Used to sneak into her room at Hogwarts," He sniggered.

Severus kept his eyes on Granger, whose cheeks were slowly reddening. "Oh?" He forced himself to stay neutral. "Well, I certainly didn't pay attention to anything so disgusting as what you're suggesting, Antonin. I don't share Pettigrew's interest in prepubescent children."

"Come on, Snape," Dolohov chuckled. "I know you're bloody curious, just like the rest of us. Peter said he came by earlier, helped her recreate the moment for him. Fuck, I wish I'd been there. Must've been quite the sight, him making the uptight little bitch get herself off."

Hermione's face was bright red now, eyes shut tightly, and her lips trembling with each forced breath she took. He could tell it was in an effort to keep herself from yelling or crying or doing anything stupid. Good.

So that's what he'd made her do. That sick bastard.

"As amusing as that is, Dolohov, I really must get going soon."

"I just came by to see how you were doing with her," The man shrugged, still sniggering. "Don't let me interrupt. I'm getting a bite to eat before coming back later tonight. Have fun, Severus," He grinned.

Snape said nothing, waiting for the disgusting wizard to leave before turning back to face Granger. "Is your head all right, Miss Granger?"

She nodded, looking up at the ceiling dazedly.

He eyed her with concern. She didn't look all right. "Sit up. Let me look at it."

The witch frowned for a moment, as if considering, then sat up gingerly and turned her back to him, pulling her matted hair over one shoulder.

Severus walked closer and ran his wand over the back of her head, making sure the girl didn't have a concussion.

After a few minutes he nodded, satisfied, and stepped away. "You're fine. It'll be tender for a while."

She didn't answer him.

Severus sighed and walked around her curled up body to face her. "Miss Granger," He began cautiously, waiting for her to make eye contact. "Miss Granger. I…I don't know what to say to…Make you feel better. If that's even bloody possible at this point," He exhaled, looking exasperatedly up at the ceiling for a second before meeting her eyes once more. "I'm sure you're quite embarrassed and humiliated by all you've had to go through in the past few days. It…It's a natural human response, though it makes no sense because you are an intelligent girl and you know that none of this is your fault. However, if it's any consolation…None of this will ever leave this room. The others don't care enough to brag," He shrugged, and continued solemnly. "And I will never disclose anything I saw or heard about here _or _in your mind. I know it doesn't mean much to you, but I give you my word."

The girl was looking up at him with tearful, shocked eyes. "Th-thank you, sir," She whispered finally. "O-of course your word means something to me. Thank you."

He nodded brusquely, uncomfortable at having had to make such a speech. At least she seemed better.

"Very well then. I should get back to Hogwarts."

"Wait, sir…I…If, if something happens," She spoke softly, her expression sad but determined. "If something happens to me, before you can come back…I…Thank you. For, for trying to rescue me, and for putting yourself at risk. I appreciate it," She swallowed thickly. "More than I can say. I…I really hope everything turns out well for the Order, sir, and for _you_. I know…I know you're in a dangerous position, more so than any other member, a-and I want you to know that I, I believe in the Order and in _you _and I think you can win. I hope you do. I hope you make it to the end, and that you're safe, and that you find happiness. You deserve it," Hermione whispered. "So…Good luck, I guess, is what I'm trying to say. Good luck."

Severus stared at her in shock, searching for something to say.

She believed in _him_? She wished _him _well?

What had he ever done to this girl, other than be unnecessarily cruel and dismissive, to warrant such sentiments? Was she mad? Was this just how people acted when faced with death?

She was staring at him, awaiting some sort of reaction.

The professor stared back, unable to do anything but swallow and nod once before turning away again.

He ran through her heartfelt speech in his mind as he walked to the gate, dissecting every word and trying to figure out what she really meant by it. Could she really have that much faith in a nasty teacher like him?

Severus paused outside the gate, not looking back, still running over her words in his mind.

Finally, he swallowed and stared resolutely ahead at the wrought iron bars. He would get this girl out of here. Not now, that was impossible, but he would. He would come up with something, and she would be out of here by the end of the week. He swore it to himself.

"Miss Granger," He spoke hoarsely, still taken aback by her previous words. "I promise you, you will get to see the Order's victory for yourself."

With that, he pushed open the gate and walked away, not trusting himself to look back at her tearful, kind face and still leave without simply apparating her away with him.

* * *

Again, I'm very sorry for how long it took me to get this up! I hope you guys are still reading & that you enjoyed this chapter! I tried for something more hopeful and as you can see, there's a huge chunk of Severus/Hermione interaction :)

Anyway, please leave me your thoughts and thank you for reading! You guys are awesome!


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